"Don't he just?" cried Alick Hudson. "I should think there wasn't a thing he couldn't do--of things that men _do_ do, don't you know," cried that carefully trained boy, whose style was confused, though his meaning was good. But probably there were almost as many opinions about Phil as there were people in the room. His two backers-up stood in a corner--half intimidated, half contemptuous of the country people. "Queer lot for Phil to fall among," said Dick Bolsover. "Que diable allait-il faire dans cette galère?" said Harry Compton, who had been about the world. "Oh, bosh with your French, that nobody understands," said the best man. But in the meantime Phil was not there at all to be seen of men. He had stolen out into the garden, where there was a white vision awaiting him in the milky moonlight. The autumn haze had come early this season, and the moon was misty, veiled with white amid a jumble of soft floating vapours in the sky. Elinor stood among the flowers, which showed some strange subdued tints of colours in the flooding of the white light, like a bit of consolidated moonlight in her white dress. She had a white shawl covering her from head to foot, with a corner thrown over her hair. What had they to say to each other that last night? Not much; nothing at all that had any information in it--whispers inaudible almost to each other. There was something in being together for this stolen moment, just on the eve of their being together for always, which had a charm of its own. After to-night, no stealing away, no escape to the garden, no little conspiracy to attain a meeting--the last of all those delightful schemings and devices. They started when they heard a sound from the house, and sped along the paths into the shadow like the conspirators they were--but never to conspire more after this last enthralling time. "You're not frightened, Nell?" "No--except a little. There is one thing----" "What is it, my pet? If it's to the half of my kingdom, it shall be done." "Phil, we are going to be very good when we are together? don't laugh--to help each other?" He did laugh low, not to be heard, but long. "I shall have no temptation," he said, "to be anything but good, you little goose of a Nell," taking it for a warning of possible jealousy to come. "Oh, but I mean both of us--to help each other." "Why, Nell, I know you'll never go wrong----" She gave him a little impatient shake. "You will not understand me, Phil. We will try to be better than we've ever been. To be good--don't you know what that means?--in every way, before God." Her voice dropped very low, and he was for a moment overawed. "You mean going to church, Nell?" "I mean--yes, that for one thing; and many other things." "That's dropping rather strong upon a fellow," he said, "just at this moment, don't you think, when I must say yes to everything you say."